


True Colours - Star Wars AU

by sorrybabyxx



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, does what it says on the tin - star wars au, im a huge nerd and couldnt help myself, who doesnt love some angsty soulmate space wizards warring in space?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:06:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25424371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrybabyxx/pseuds/sorrybabyxx
Summary: Eve is living out a quiet, boring existence as a security guard until a Sith assassin is sent to kill someone under her protection. Their encounter re-awakens Eve's long repressed connection with the Force and awakens something new.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova, geraldine/jar jar binks
Comments: 40
Kudos: 102





	1. Gold Trim

**Author's Note:**

> takes place in Star Wars canon between episode iii & iv. i'm going to get some star wars lore wrong, sorry in advance

“Tell it to me again,” Konstantin orders as he struggles to keep pace with Villanelle as her long strides carry her through the geometric corridors of the Star Destroyer to the hangar.

The long dark grey cloak gathering behind her are a constant tripping hazard for Konstantin as he pursues her. The billows of fabric swarm around her body to hide the guard plates and armour she’s wearing underneath. 

Konstantin can tell she is retreating within herself, preparing. It makes her distracted and even less cooperative than usual.

Just as he catches up, she casts him a glance to ask, “Have _you_ forgotten the plan?” Her tone is simultaneously annoyed and playful.

“Don’t make me beg.” Konstantin catches her elbow and pul ls them to a stop. He needs to catch his breath.

Villanelle avoids looking at him. He waves his index finger to get her attention. “This is a big day for you. This target is not to be messed with.”

“Don’t be nervous.” Villanelle rolls her eyes and shakes free of his grip to resume walking, upping her pace to annoy him.

“I have to be nervous,” Konstantin insists, his voice rising. He restrains himself before he continues, “For the both of us. You know, you could use a little more caution.”

“Caution is a roadblock to power,” Villanelle recites.

Konstantin recognises Villanelle’s words for what they are, her master’s words. He sighs. “You know what I mean. A little apprehension. Some control.”

They are entering the main hangar when Villanelle stops listening to him.

The imperial ship is always so quiet. Orderly. Even as the troops prepare there is no chatter just the sound of items being shifted, and work being done. A swift machine. Villanelle considers herself separate from all this. She thinks she is above it. They are just tiny cogs. Her part is much larger. Her destiny is far greater.

Nadia, a slim brunette, stands in her brand new grey imperial uniform, coordinating the preparations. Her hair is pulled back high and tight as if it is trying to combat the scowl on her face.

Villanelle notes that she looks as stressed as Konstantin.

Nadia’s worry makes more sense to Villanelle. She’s been given the ‘honour’ of attempting to conquer Cloud City, now that the Empire’s spies had given them reason to believe that the city’s leader is colluding with the Rebellion. Villanelle’s task is simpler, to kill the Rebel leader sent to the city to negotiate.

Villanelle thinks the Empire is being greedy, Bespin doesn’t seem worth the trouble. From the strained look on Nadia’s face she would probably agree as well if she could speak freely on the matter.

As Konstantin and Villanelle pass, she calls out to Nadia, “My chamber later?”

Villanelle’s comment interrupts Nadia’s instruction. And a few heads stray to look between the two of them before skittering back to their task, afraid of being caught gawking. Konstantin lets out an exasperated sigh beside her.

The scowl doesn’t drop from Nadia’s features, but she nods all the same.

“Romantic,” Konstantin remarks dryly.

“Don’t be jealous,” Villanelle cautions playfully.

“Nadia scares me. Her eyes. They are just so … angry.” He cuts a glance back at Nadia, who is yelling at the onlookers.

Villanelle snorts in response. He isn’t wrong. Nadia is far from nice, that’s why her and Villanelle get along.

The two come to a natural pause when they reach Villanelle’s shuttle. Its wings are retracted and vertical, the ramp lowered, ready for boarding.

Knowing this is his last chance to get a clear answer, Konstantin prompts, “The plan?”

She shoots him a look as she goes to enter the ship. Villanelle gets halfway up the ramp before Konstantin adds, “Please.”

Smiling, she finally answers, “Kill the Rebel. Kill any witnesses.”

Konstantin frowns at her. “I think there were a few more steps than that.”

From the ramp, she bends down to disturb his white hair. Her voice is bubbly. “I’ll see you after.”

**BESPIN – CLOUD CITY**

Eve is woken in a start by a high-pitched beeping.

It sends her into red alert. She sits bolt upright; her hair is in her face as she searches the already dark room for a threat when she realises it’s just her alarm.

She disables it as Niko rolls over, equally put out by the rude awakening. “I thought it was your day off?” He mumbles to his pillow.

Eve collapses back into the bed, shutting her eyes and wishing she could go back to sleep. “It was. Diane decided to take a meeting with a representative from the Rebellion this morning,” Eve mumbles.

Niko sweeps a curl from her face and says gently, “Don’t say it like that.”

Eve knows what he’s going to say but baits him anyway. “Like what?”

“Like Rebellion is a dirty word.”

Eve huffs at his comment. And as if he’s taking it back, he wraps his arms around her.

This is a sore spot. It was one of the few places where their broader opinions on the affairs of the galaxy diverged.

Niko is all for peace. And Eve is too, but their definition of it is slightly different. Eve actively tries to avoid the Empire and the Rebellion alike. She decided a long time ago, that the war between those who believed in the Republic and those who believed in the Empire weren’t her problem, it was out of her control and she wasn’t going to die fighting for either of them.

It isn’t a coincidence that Eve ended up far from her home-planet, working security for one of the few cities able to remain neutral in all of this. She wanted to be away from the war, even if that meant living on a gas giant with only a thin layer of habitable atmosphere.

Niko’s conscience struggled with being a bystander. But he isn’t a warrior in any regard. He prefers to fight with guerrilla tactics, implanting ideas of rebellion in his students in Cloud City. By weaponizing their young minds, he likes to believe he is building the next generation of leaders.

Still, they had decided to sit on the sidelines together.

Into his chest, she murmurs, “I don’t know why they keep coming back. We aren’t willing to die for their cause. We are putting our entire city in danger just to house these dead-end talks.”

Into her hair, Niko says, with a rationale that annoys Eve only because she can’t fault it. “The Baron Administrator has a healthy respect for the Rebellion. The Jedi Order and the Republic were great friends to this city. It’s polite to hear them out, at least.”

Eve grumbles back, “It would be polite of them to let me sleep in with my husband rather than spend my morning escorting some Rebel down white corridors.”

“But you’re so good at it,” he teases.

Eve makes a face at him and finally pulls herself out of bed. Her uniform is waiting for her. She fights her way into the white skivvy before shrugging into the blue fabric of her jacket, that is embellished with a gold trim. Eve has never been a fan of it; the uniform looks more like a costume than something designed to see real battle. And in truth they are, their design is meant to elevate the aesthetic of the city and appealed to the resorts and casino goers on the upper levels. She straps on her belt before she moves to put on her boots. She leaves the helmet; her hair and it have never got along.

Niko tries to dispel her bad mood as she fights to get her feet into her boots. “Just think, one day we will retire. Get that little house on some planet with a countryside. You can walk through dirt and shit every morning to feed our animals instead of clean corridors.”

“Mmm,” Eve hums, now fully dressed, she leans across the bed to kiss him. “Can’t wait.”

She grabs a hunk of bread from the kitchen. Eve is already running late and eats as she walks.

Eve would never tell Niko, but she is bored. Their life, even though she chose it, feels so small. Their lives take up so little space, tucked away as they were in a small chamber, suspended over an inhospitable planet in a metal city.

Bespin is for the transient. For the wealthy it has resorts and casinos. For the poor it has work mining the gas. Few chose to set their lives up here, but it is where she met Niko and chosen to set up hers. 

Even their dream of retirement, feels like a compromise. Eve gets to get away from this, see a little more of the galaxy, while Niko gets to trade one of his passions, teaching, for another, farming. But to Eve it isn’t exciting. It would be different however, and as she rounds the corner, like she has done a thousand times before to reach the guest chambers, Eve knows different would do.

***

Eve is still eating her breakfast when she knocks on the representative door. It whips open to reveal an unimpressed man, he is tall and wire-thin. Grey hair is slowly dominating his already light facial hair and climbing into his hairline.

He looks down disapprovingly at Eve’s unbuttoned jacket and wild hair but says nothing.

Eve rips off another hunk of bread with her teeth and asks around it, “Frank, right?”

“Yes.” He flinches at the sight of her speaking with her mouth full.

Eve starts walking only to find he isn’t following. “Well, come on, I’m escorting you to your meeting with the Baron Administrator.”

In a few steps, Frank catches up to Eve. He exudes a nervous energy that unsettles Eve. Her shoulders tighten as he walks a little too close to her.

“Is she nice?” He asks.

Eve knows he meant the Baron Administrator, Diane, who is nice enough. She would at least smile at you while she ruins your life. Eve has had worse bosses and worse leaders.

She shrugs. “I suppose.”

“I’m not particularly good with people,” Frank admits sheepishly, wringing out his obscenely long fingers.

Eve scoffs to stifle a full-on laugh. “Isn’t that your job? To sweet talk people into wanting to die alongside you?”

He frowns at her tone. “This was all last minute for me. If I had my choice I wouldn’t be here. But I would argue that fighting for the Rebellion is the only way to die freely under the Empire’s rule.”

They are getting closer to the Baron Administrator’s office; Eve takes the chance to state her opinion before there are official ears around to hear her debating a guest. “If the Empire aren’t killing me or my people, then frankly, I don’t care.”

Frank’s lips drew so thin they nearly disappeared. “Was that on purpose?”

Eve is lost. “What?”

“The pun,” Frank says, just as Eve finishes punching in the door code.

They whip open and Diane stands before them. Her arms fling wide in what appears to be a warm greeting, but Eve recognises the sickly-sweet tone she uses to start the meeting and what lays beneath it. Eve smiles to herself; Diane isn’t going to be easy to sway today. This rejection of the Rebellion might be their swiftest yet.

Frank gives a clumsy bow before taking his seat as Eve settles at the back of the room beside her colleague, Max, to watch the proceedings. But instead of watching the meeting, her gaze wanders out the large observatory windows behind her. The clouded surface below twists and spirals endlessly as one of the gas giants two moons make an appearance in the blue sky.

***

The talks are progressing stiffly.

Diane is making her opposition known when Eve senses the chaos. A beat or two passes before the others in the room notice, the screams and the sounds of combat travelling the sealed doors.

Eve is already in action. She pulls Diane from her seat, keeping her body between her and the door as they move to the side of the room. Diane is in shock but let’s Eve guide her.

Max catches on faster and without Eve saying anything he’s ahead of her, lifting the loose panel of grating in the floor.

The hatch they crawl into is connected to a network of tunnels that run throughout the city. They had been used for storage but now they are the only way to evacuate the Baron Administrator if a threat ever makes it this deep into the city. Which Eve knows shouldn’t be possible, not without raising the attention of at least one guard but they had received no forewarning warning, no alarm.

The three of them are down the hatch and safely out of sight when Eve notes Frank hasn’t followed them. Her fingers are hooked into the grate ready to open it to go back for him when the chamber’s doors blow open.

The two sheets of metal peel back like they are made of tin foil. Eve gingerly lowers the grate back over them and motions for Max to keep moving with Diane. She stays put, trying to catch sight of Frank.

A figure cloaked in dark grey fabric emerges through the ruined doors. Eve couldn’t see their face but the hairs on the back of her neck spring up. She can feel the untamed rage within them and raw power. A bolt of fear strikes her heart and Eve ducks deeper into the tunnel out of the figure’s sight.

After entering the Baron Administrator’s office, Villanelle pauses for the first time since her ship landed, surveying the nearly empty room.

She can hear Nadia and her troops in battle far away, in another part of the ship. Villanelle wasn’t a team player and as soon as they landed, she separated from them, alone she is faster, quieter. She had made it to the heart of the ship effortlessly, while Nadia unwilling attracted the attention of the whole city.

Villanelle frowns as she looks at Frank. She hadn’t expected a man. “I’m guessing you aren’t Carolyn Martens?”

The man doesn’t so much answer as recoil. He shuffles back a few more feet until his back hits the wall.

Yeah, Villanelle is fairly sure this man is not a general for the Rebellion.

At the sound of Villanelle’s voice, Eve peeks out through the grating.

The figure stood a little shorter than Frank, but Eve is still surprised when a woman’s voice drifts from under the hood. The voice is smooth like a twisted melody.

Abruptly, an invisible force pulls Frank’s feet from the floor. His hands clutch at his throat.

“Please,” he sputters as the woman closed the distance. “I have money. I’ll pay you to let me live.”

There is a chuckle, light and full of malice from beneath the cloak.

"Are you afraid of death?" A woman’s voice taunts, her words accented. Eve can’t decipher the origin.

His shoes squeak against the floor fighting to find purchase. He only manages to nod, the veins in his face bulging.

Eve hears the woman go quiet, her mind and attention roaming beyond Frank, to her.

Villanelle senses something. A presence. A curiosity. Her and Frank aren’t alone. Someone is watching them. Villanelle’s eyes roam the room for a source, as Eve ducks out of site and deciding it’s best to leave while she still can.

Villanelle tries to follow the feeling, the disturbance but is drawn from her thoughts when she notices Frank’s face shifting from red to purple. She lets him drop; she isn’t done with him yet.

“Where are the Rebels?” She asks, her impatience clear.

On the floor, Frank gasps for breath until he can say, “I don’t know. I swear.”

Villanelle crouches before Frank so she can look into his eyes. They are wide with panic and he scuttles away from her. She barely needs to concentrate to enter his mind and thumb through his thoughts. He’s telling the truth.

“Hmph. That is annoying. They were smart not to tell you. You’d give them right up.”

“Does that mean you’ll let me go?” His voice quivers as his eyes light with hope.

Villanelle pouts at him and shakes her head. “No.”

Her lightsaber roars to life in her hand, its hungry red glow touches every wall.


	2. The Colour of Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve goes back into the city for find Niko. Villanelle is persuaded to help the Empire take the city. Their paths inevitably cross.

Eve tries to be stealthy, but her heart is beating fast, driving her body forward in a mad scramble. Her mind is just as loud, rattling off questions. Who is that woman? Had she seen her? Did she know Eve was watching her? Was she following Eve?

She picks up her pace. Quickly, Max and Diane come into view. The Administrator is clutching him tightly as if he’s the only thing holding her upright. Eve’s sigh of relief doubles as a pant.

Max’s eyes shoot behind Eve back into the darkness as he asks, “Where is the Rebel?”

Eve doesn’t meet his eyes ushering them both onwards. “He’s dead.”

The sureness of her word’s startles even herself. The hair on her arms stand up. She can’t imagine the tone changing rapidly enough between Frank and that woman to give Eve any hope he could make it out alive, but it went beyond that, Eve just knows her words are true.

The tunnel isn’t spacious by any means and soon their necks ache from ducking their heads. Their eyes strain to see and they shiver. It isn’t primed for humans to scuttle through, hence why it is the last resort for evacuation. Only one modification had been made to aid panicked traveller through its bowels, a loud rickety grating that has been welded to the floor. It makes a steady surface for them to move over compared to the thick piping running that runs beneath it.

Eve’s hands are numb by the time they make it to the tunnel’s conclusion, the Baron Administrator’s private landing pad.

The ship waiting there is luxurious. Its surface is a mirror-like chrome that projects their world back at them, warped by its aerodynamic form.

The others rush to get aboard while Eve is frozen, caught looking at the distorted image of the city burning behind her. There are tears in her eyes when she turns to face the real thing.

It drowns in black clouds of smoke as if mocking the white clouds of the city’s namesake. Harsh winds carry the sound of fighting from her but not the evidence. Her home is falling before her eyes.

Her stomach clenches and her hands sweat. She knows her people aren’t winning. The Empire is ruthless, there is no doubt in Eve’s mind that they will kill anyone who gets in their way until there is only a handful of survivors.

She thinks of Niko. He’s still inside. Until moments ago, it was just another day. He had probably just started his lesson when the imperial troops landed. Eve pictures the sea of young bright faces that make up his class. She pictures him.

“Eve! We have to go,” Max shouts to her over the wallop of the ship’s engine, Diane looks panicked on his arm. The two of them are standing on the ramp waiting for her.

Eve doesn’t have to think about it. She shakes her head and turns back to the city.

“You’re meant to protect me!” Diane screams, her voice catching and breaking in fear.

Eve doesn’t hear it; she is back in the tunnel. She’s faster alone. It takes her half the time to make it back, then she is holding her breath, peering through the wire grate into the meeting room. She hadn’t wanted to come back this way, back to this room but it was the fastest way and is relatively close to the school. Plus, it isn’t likely she would run into any imperial troops in the service tunnels.

Despite the chaos breaking out across the city, above her is eerily silent. She waits a moment longer than she needs to just to be sure that the woman hasn’t lingered then she pulls herself out of the hatch.

As expected, the room is empty and right away Eve sees Frank’s body. It’s slump against the observatory window. Clouds swirl angrily beneath him. His eyelids droop but what can be seen of his pupils are fixed in front of him, looking back through the ruined doors, where that woman has surely disappeared. Frank smells of burnt flesh; it wrinkles Eve’s nose. A black mark defaces the front of Frank’s white robes and takes the place of his heart.

He hadn’t stood a chance.

Eve recalls his brief exchange with the cloaked woman. She can hear the ring of disappointment in the woman’s voice as she spoke with him. The assassin or whatever she is, is looking for someone called Carolyn Martens. He died in someone else’s place.

It makes Eve seethe. This isn’t her people’s war and yet they are dying for it. Dying as Frank had for this Carolyn Martens.

Her hand forms a fist, her nails puncture her skin.

Her anger rises inside of her so violently and quickly, it feels like it’s turning against her. Eve catches herself, taking a breath as energy amassing around her, responding to her state of mind.

Its darker side calls to her like it has done her whole life, trying to tempt her. And like all the other times, she manages to turn away from it, locking herself off from it again.

Eve unclenches her fist, shrugging the feeling off. The most important thing right now is finding Niko.

Urgently, she goes to him. The corridors of the ship streak by with an in eery familiarity. The mundane path is now a scene of carnage. Eve knows she’s travelling in that woman’s wake. She can see why the other guards didn’t get a chance to raise the alarm, she overwhelmed them too quickly. The smell of burnt flesh follows Eve, clinging to her. She doesn’t stop to take in the faces of the fallen, there are too many, most of them are in uniforms that match hers.

She turns off the main corridors, heading to the school, the western wing of the city and suddenly the bodies stop. Eve takes relief in this; it means that woman hadn’t gone this way and the imperial troops haven’t reached this part of the ship yet. It gives Eve hope.

As she gets closer to Niko, Eve can feel his fear clouding his mind. And she senses something else, something clearer. Eve’s blood runs cold. It is that anger again, the rage that belongs to that woman. Her presence is powerful, but far away. Eve can’t shake the feeling it strikes in her.

A group of children erupt into the corridor and snap her out of it. Gemma, a woman who works with Niko ushers them to safety. Eve retraces their steps and the sound of blaster fire starts getting louder.

The school is makeshift. The city never intended to have one, but it became a necessity when the workers started having kids. It occupies the odd rooms at the edge of the ship. The right side of the corridor is lined with small portal windows that give a murky view of the clouds while the other side is the classrooms. From a glance, they look empty. Her heart drops.

The long corridor seems endless, turning slightly with the diameter of the city. She can’t see the end of it. He could be anywhere.

Eve hears troops approaching. Their footsteps are precise and too formulaic to belong to her comrades. She doesn’t have long. Frantically, she paces the corridor, peering into empty rooms.

“Eve!”

Her head snaps down the corridor. Relief floods her even before her eyes find him. It’s Niko, sheltering in the door frame of a classroom further down the hall.

Niko gets to his feet; his arms go wide ready to embrace her as he runs to where she stands out in the open. His eyes are alight at the sight of her, his smile one of relief.

Then everything slips into slow motion for Eve. The infinite corridor is no longer empty. A squad of Stormtroopers led up by a woman in a grey imperial uniform marches towards them. Eve tries to yell out to Niko; the words don’t reach her lips in time.

Nadia raises her blaster and fires without hesitation.

Niko’s smile drops. The blast jolts his body and he fell just short of Eve, short of her embrace. He is motionless at her feet. She is wide-eyed, transfixed by the way his clothes smoulder, how his skin bubbles where it isn’t completely black.

Nadia goes to fire again. Eve can’t tell if she’s aiming at Niko or her. It doesn’t matter, the flanking troops pin them both in their sights. There is no time for her to reach for her weapon.

So, Eve reaches for the only things she can. The Force, the energy that is ever-present in the world around her. The power that has been waiting for her. She takes hold of it with wide arms and her whole heart, a heart that is in a quarrel with itself, the pain and fear grapple to subdue her hope. They don’t win, however, and unlike before the Force doesn’t try to overwhelm her, it sustains itself on her love for Niko and her need to protect him. In glee and without any seeming command from her, it erupts forth sending the approaching guard flying back, their weapons whipping from their grasps.

Eve doesn’t get a chance to process any of this. As the imperial soldier’s scramble to their feet, Eve, her hands shaking takes the opportunity to drag Niko through the nearest open hatch. They leave a bloody smear behind them on the polished white floors. Eve seals the door behind them, and her legs give out, Niko’s torso falling into her lap.

The room is small, a storage locker, there is barely enough room for the two of them on the floor.

Niko’s eyes roam above him, he squints at the ceiling light, trying to find Eve in his blurred vision.

Eve cranes closer, her breath catches in her throat strangling her as she holds back tears. He’s so weak. He tries to breathe, but it morphs into him sputtering on his own blood.

She’s frantic. She thinks about the pros and cons of flipping him over and trying to tend to his wound. The residual heat of it burns her legs. He’s fading before her eyes and all she can think is, he can’t die. Not Niko. Anyone but him.

As she tries to think her way around death, Niko eyes finally find her. Pale lips strain into the ghost of a smile. Then his hand comes up, trying to reach her face only to fall short. Eve catches it and completes its journey to her cheek, kissing his palm. She knots their fingers together, the blood on her hands makes his fingers slip in her grasp as she squeezes them. She doesn’t know if she does it to comfort him or herself.

He takes his last painful breath and never squeezes back.

“No,” Eve mumbles, grabbing at his face. He doesn’t flinch, he doesn’t twitch.

The light above gleams off his eyes. And Eve feels him leave. Niko life force scrambles, disassembling, before dissipating into the world around her.

Eve has never seen someone so still, so empty. That stillness ran counter to the Force moving through Eve, to the emotions threatening to overcome her.

She clutches his shirt. All she wants is to stay with him. Suddenly she can’t breathe. She had been so stupid. What she wouldn’t give to spend a thousand boring lifetimes with him now.

Nadia is yelling on the other side of the door trying to get it open.

Eve barely hears it. She didn’t even get one lifetime with him, they met too late, loved, and lived too cautiously for an ending like this. It isn’t fair.

Eve tries to reach out to Niko again, but this time she closes her eyes, favouring another sense. Her heart breaks again, he is empty. Something else answers her, in her stillness, and floods her with an absurd sense of calm. It forces her to think and gently she wriggles out from under Niko’s body and stands to ready herself just as the control panel for the door beeps, granting them access.

***

“It’s done. I’m heading back,” Villanelle reports to Konstantin through the comlink as she weaves her way through the carnage to her shuttle. More stormtroopers stream by her. They are struggling to take the city as she predicted.

Konstantin’s voice is gruff and disapproving as he says, “Nadia has put out a distress call.”

“I know,” Villanelle says simply. She’s chosen to ignore it. Villanelle delivered on her end; Nadia should be able to handle herself. “I did my job.”

Villanelle could hear Konstantin’s frustration even in his silence. He understands Villanelle well enough to know arguing will get him nowhere. Instead, he sarcastically says, “Flawlessly. You killed _a_ rebel. Not _the_ rebel you were sent to kill and are now letting the Empire lose on your watch.”

Villanelle stops walking and grits her teeth. Rage crackles inside of her. She realises he’s right. Whether she likes it or not – and she did not – Villanelle must be a team player. Achieving success in the eyes of her master depends on it.

Konstantin is still talking but Villanelle tunes him out when she senses a ripple in the Force. More than a ripple actually. It is coming from behind her, back inside the city. She tries to focus on it. She feels a large amassing of power that isn’t her own. There is great pain too. A palpable sadness that leaks into the world around her. Villanelle lets her eyes flutter shut to focus on it when that power is released, like a rubber band snapping back. Even from this distance, the floor beneath her feet shakes and the metal walls screech from the force of it.

Villanelle’s eyes snap open and excitement flits through her. A Force-user. A powerful one. Perhaps even a rogue Jedi who managed to survive the purge.

 _Finally_ , Villanelle thinks, _someone to play with._

Eagerly, she turns back, letting herself be guided to the source. She drew her lightsaber; it thrums in anticipation.

***

The further Villanelle advances down the long corridor the more the metal of the walls twist and warp around her. She’s getting so close.

Messy colourful drawings are hung in the rooms she passes. There are more littering the floor that has fallen from the windows. She is at the edge of the ship a few floors beneath the resort and casino, near the city’s school.

There are no children in sight despite the drawings. Instead, she finds Nadia on her back, her weapon nowhere in sight, scooting back to find cover.

She doesn’t notice Villanelle, her eyes have locked ahead of them fixing on a woman standing alone at the mouth of a small hatch, the metal frame of which is bent out of shape. The automatic door tries to close itself behind her repeatedly, grinding the metal.

Tendrils of curly black hair whips around the woman’s face, framing it, crowning her as Villanelle senses power without persuasion swelling within her.

Villanelle has found the source of that power. She also can’t help but notice how beautiful this woman is and how wild. The woman is older, middle-aged, but time has not wearied her. It has galvanised her beauty, given the galaxy more time to perfect her. The jacket of her guard uniform hangs open, the long sleeve underneath is sullied with drying blood, the fabric going stiff. Her hands are bloody as well, one is clutching a blaster fiercely and the other is outstretched, palm raised.

Eve pulls back her hand and stares at it in disbelief. It happened again, that blast, that wave of energy. She isn’t sure how she managed it, but she is alive. When the door sprang, Eve had been confronted by three raised blasters, their chambers hissing, ready to fire. Then again, they were flung back. Eve knew that power had come from her, but she hadn’t willed it, at least if she did, she isn’t sure how. She can feel the Force flooding her, aiding her, but not completely obeying her. It scares her.

Eve doesn’t notice Villanelle watching her. So, Villanelle pries into her mind. She finds only a tangling of emotions knotting Eve’s insides. A cocktail of grief, fear, wonder, and righteousness. She is determined to defend what little of home she has left.

Villanelle is intrigued, the woman seems befuddled by her own power.

However, intrigue and attraction aren’t enough to tame Villanelle’s bloodlust.

It is rare to come across a Force-user let alone a Jedi these days. It has been a long time since Villanelle has had the pleasure of defeating a powerful one.

 _But not powerful enough_ , Villanelle thinks as she thrusts her hands forward.

Eve senses the wave of Force energy Villanelle mustered before it slams into her. She looks up from her palm to see that same cloaked figure from earlier. The red lightsaber in the woman’s hand graces Eve with a tinted glimpse into the darkness of Villanelle’s hood. She can only make out her chin and a full bottom lip. 

Eve doesn’t have time to react, her hands come up in a feeble attempt to shield herself. Eve’s boots scuff against the ground. There is a mess of noise, wind whips wildly around her. And then nothing else happens.

Cautiously, Eve peeks from behind her hands to see Villanelle glowering at her, teeth gritted. Her hood has fallen back. Her blonde hair is pulled into a loose bun. She is younger than Eve imagined, her features delicate. She has a slim nose and cheekbones that seem to accentuate her eyes. Her skin is pale, nearly sickly, and dotted with freckles. Her eyes are a harsh contrast to her otherwise delicate face. They are an unnatural yellow. Eve can only liken their colour to fire. A fire stoked and sustained by the rage and chaos that burns inside of her.

They are locked. Both of their hands are outstretched, pushing against the other. They are each an unstoppable force and an immovable object. The space between them is the eye of the storm as the collision of their wills wreaks havoc around them.

The corridor is collapsing, the surrounding rooms buckle into each other, electricity erupts and scatters as the destruction continues catching some of the Stormtroopers trapped between them. With a screeching and the tinging snap of metal, the roof balloons above them, the glass of the window shatter. Along the weak points in the windows and the ceiling, the damage merges cracking the ship open to the outside atmosphere.

The light of the nearest stars shone through the dense sky. They both offer it a glance, in the far-off constellations that Eve has memorised the names of, she sees the opportunities she has spent her whole life running from in favour of this place. She sees a galaxy so big it’s already forgotten Niko’s name, a galaxy that will forget hers. Villanelle sees a map of blood in the stars.

In real time, they are deadlocked, cancelling each other out for only moments. But for that moment, their connection extends, stretching outside of time, beyond the present.

Villanelle isn’t sure what is happening. It frustrates her and she hoards that frustration, letting it morph into anger. She lets it fuel the dark side as she dug down into herself for more power. The dark side answers her, its familiar fire flooding her. It hurts but Villanelle embraces it, she’s grateful for it. Even the pain is better than the nothingness, the boredom she feels without it.

Empowered, Villanelle takes a step forward, her eyes bubbling like lava at Eve. She plants her feet as a guttural roar rips from her lips.

Eve’s feet slide back. She grits her teeth, holding her ground. She can’t lose. She can’t give up. Niko died for this. Niko died for this.

The words get stuck on a loop in her head, they help her hold on, but she knows she doesn’t have long.

Villanelle can feel her waning too. This newly-tapped power and Eve are reaching their limits, a cruel smile curls her lips.

Eve needs a plan. This woman is accustomed to commanding death. She can’t fight Villanelle, and surely can’t defeat her. Eve closes her eyes. The world goes dark, but it doesn’t disappear. She feels all of it, sees it all in a new way. With new eyes. She can see _it_. The Force. The energy linking all living things. The life force she felt Niko dissolve into, as he returned to the fabric of the galaxy. She sees the explosion of it between her and Villanelle and a finer thread of it linking them together.

She narrows her focus. The corridor is still collapsing, the tear in the sidewall is widening. The ceiling, however, seems to have stabilised. A single bent metal rod has wedged itself between the falling sides and for now has managed to keep it from collapsing entirely.

If Eve could get it to collapse the debris would separate the two of them, perhaps long enough for Eve to getaway or for reinforcements to back her up. 

Eve opens her eyes and the world has only flitted forward a second, but she is full of resolve and looks to the ceiling.

A large ship banks past the side of the city, it catches Villanelle’s attention as its form blocks the light. It’s made from dented mismatching parts that give it a patchwork colour scheme. A Rebel ship. After the ship clears her line of sight, Villanelle can see more behind it, a wave of fighters descending on the city. Carolyn Martens must be on one of these ships.

Eve doesn’t see it; her eyes are locked on the rod, preparing herself and all at once she lets go. Her side of the stalemate gives way and she is blown back. But Eve hasn’t given up and she channels everything into that rod, ripping it free and launching it forward at Villanelle. Before her head clatters off the floor and everything goes black.

Villanelle glances back at Eve in time to see her flung back and watch the ceiling dropping like a curtain between them. She didn’t notice the piece of rebar flying at her until it takes her breath from her. She drops to her knees involuntarily. The metal rod has found a narrow path between the bone of her pelvis and the armoured plating over her abdomen.

In disbelief, she looks up, where Eve had stood, at the mess of wire and piping now separating them. Then she rips the rod from her side. The spiralled ridges of the metal do just as much damage on the way out. And it didn’t help. She can’t breathe. The pain tries to drown out the anger she has summoned, willing her to submit. On her hands and knees, she can hear blood dripping to the floor. She refuses to look, it doesn’t matter what she’ll find there, she must finish this regardless.

Pushing herself to her feet, black spots dot her vision as she stands to her full height. It isn’t just the physical injury that’s draining her, Villanelle can feel the lethargy overcoming her. She used too much energy trying to overpower Eve.

She raises a hand, intent on clearing the debris. The corridor spins. She collapses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know when the next one will be up but I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> My ke socials (if you want to keep in loop about new chapters or just hear my thoughts on ke :D)  
> twitter: [ we_r_colleagues ](https://twitter.com/we_r_colleagues)  
> tumblr: [ we-are-colleagues ](https://we-are-colleagues.tumblr.com/)


	3. Dried Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Villanelle and Eve recover from their meeting.

Before Eve is only darkness. An emptiness. In it, she’s blind and numb.

But she knows she isn’t alone, wherever she is.

There is someone else caught here with her.

She can’t reach out to them, can’t render a likeness of them in her mind. It doesn’t comfort her, this faceless, voiceless presence.

The emptiness consumes them both until unconsciousness rejects Eve and spits her back into the world.

She comes to with a jolt. An older man steadies her.

“Congratulations, you’re alive,” he beams. As he smiles at Eve, two shining apples emerge from his cheeks.

He catches the confused look on her face and introduces himself, “I’m Bill Pargrave.”

Bill is wearing simple robes of inter-laying pieces of cream and grey fabric. It’s a strange attire, not one Eve recognises. He clearly isn’t from Bespin. But the lack of Imperial insignias on his modest dress is a small relief.

“Eve,” she mutters back, as spots clear from the corners of her vision.

Her whole body hurts. But nothing serious, some cracked ribs and enough bruises to make her look spotted. Her head is the primary source of her body’s complaints. She probably has a concussion. But it went deeper than that. She’s drained, she slouches back into the makeshift bed and is dangerously close to slipping back into unconsciousness.

She doesn’t, however. Instead she props herself up and takes in her surroundings, the crowded hanger spins as she sits up. High ceilings open above her, catching and amplifying the chaos of people shouting, crying, and reuniting.

Its crowded with faces she recognises and faces she’s never seen before.

Instinctively, she searches the swarm of people for Niko.

Then she remembers.

She finds his pale face in her memory, the only place he now resides. His loss crashes into her again, spilling down her cheeks. It’s worse this time. She’s not fighting for her life anymore, she’s defeated, in the belly of a Rebel ship, not sure if she’s even safe but she’s run out of fight.

She snots up the sleeve of her ruined uniform cleaning her face.

Bill’s hand grips her shoulder. Somehow, he knows not to ask who or how many people she lost today. He has a kind face, the boldest characteristic of which is a deep dimple in his chin. His bushy eyebrows curl together in a look of concern that softens his eyes. It doesn’t make her feel bad for blubbering.

She wants nothing more than to go back to this morning, when her biggest problem was working an extra day, and having to spend it with a Rebel. Now, she is on one of their ships, widowed and hurtling away from her ruined home.

She wants to go back because she knows, she can sense there is no path back to normality for her now.

Eve looks down at her hands, rust coloured with blood, the last whisper of Niko’s life. They didn’t look like her hands anymore. The smell of iron makes her feel sick as she wipes her eyes and thinks of the rush of power that had burst from them. Her head throbs.

She clamps her eyes shut and behind them are those two inhuman eyes, watching her, glaring at her.

Her eyes burst open and she demands, “Who was that woman?”

Bill is caught off guard. He didn’t expect _this_ to be her first real question upon waking up in a strange place, among strangers. But he is startled in a such a way that Eve is sure he knows exactly who she means.

It’s a woman who answer Eve. She’s older, regal, and stoic. She had blended in with the chaos until she announced herself. “She’s been on our radar for a while. As for who she is … no one knows, no one has survived an actual encounter with her, well, not until now.”

“We just call her the _Demon with No Face_ ,” Bill offers.

Too eagerly the woman prompts, “Tell me what she looks like.”

Eve pauses. Not that she needs to think, the woman’s face is right there, every detail of it perfectly rendered when she closes her eyes. She pauses, because she’s realising, she didn’t just get lucky, the Rebels had saved her to ask her this question.

She considers playing dumb and hoarding her knowledge. But they clearly knew more about all this than she does. Eve wants revenge, justice. To find the woman who had taken Niko from her, the one in the grey uniform. She decides to play along.

“Her hair was dark blonde, maybe honey. It was tied back. Uh, she was fit about 25, 26. Delicate features. A long neck. High cheekbones. Her eyes were sort of cat-like. Wide. Alert. And they were this … bright piercing inhuman yellow. Her skin was pale. Gaunt. She had this lost look in her eyes. She was totally focused, yet almost entirely inaccessible.”

A thoughtful ‘hmm’ is the woman’s only response as she processes and builds a mental image.

“What is with her eyes?” Eve asks Bill. She’s already identified him as a friend, especially in the company of this woman.

“Unnerving, isn’t it?” He mutters before elaborating. “It’s an effect of the dark side. It doesn’t happen to everyone, but it is thought to be a physical sign of someone who has given themselves over to it completely.”

Unnerving. It was that and more. It was like the woman peeked out at Eve through walls of fire.

“Eyes are windows to the soul. That’s what hers looks like,” Bill finishes.

Eve finds herself shaking her head. Eve swore she saw something else in those eyes, someone burning in those flames. Instead, she murmurs, “She’s so young.”

The woman inserts herself again, “I’ve seen children gun down their parents at the behest of the Empire. She’s not too young for violence.” She’s cold, presenting atrocities as fact rather than emotive points of persuasion.

Bill offers a warmer take and a look that warns the woman to back off, “It doesn’t matter right now. You fought them off, helped save your people.”

 _What is left of my people,_ Eve corrects him in her thoughts, and she isn’t sure how much credit she can take for that, when she was out cold. She hates to admit it, but it was the Rebels who had saved her and the others.

“You’re safe now.” Eve can hear the distant hum of the ship’s engine as he speaks.

“You kidnapped me,” Eve clarifies.

Bill shrugs, unruffled but Eve’s lack of gratitude.

The woman prickles. “You should be grateful. You don’t just get to disrupt the Empire’s plans and go home.”

“I didn’t ask to be saved.” Eve hadn’t asked to be a part of anything, in fact she’d begged the galaxy to leave her out of this. She isn’t going to let some Rebel tell her she should be kissing their feet because she’s alive. On some level, Eve knew she was being unreasonable, unfriendly in the face of their kindness, but her husband’s blood has recoloured her clothes and this woman wants to tell Eve how she should feel about it.

The next words out of the woman’s mouth stifle any logic rising within Eve. Rage stomps it out. “Your talents, though wild and untamed, are rare. You were wasted there. Here, you can do some good. What is there even to do on just one planet, one ship? It must get so boring.”

Eve grits her teeth. Her hands curl into fists. The stranger’s words remind her, she doesn’t have a home anymore, and without Niko, she would probably never make one. She didn’t want to have a new one assigned to her. The pain of Niko’s death is fresh in her heart and it sharpens her tongue.

“Who are you?” Eve spits.

“Carolyn Martens.” She doesn’t hesitate. It’s swift. She’s used to announcing herself.

“A general for the rebellion,” Bill adds, like he’s her hype man.

Eve barks out a humourless laugh. “You. She was after _you_.”

Carolyn’s eyes skitter away from Eve’s, in shame, maybe regret. “We received a tip off that the Empire intended to strike, but not how or when, from a very unreliable source.”

“So, you sent Frank in to die for you?” Eve can’t believe she is defending Frank’s honour. She hadn’t enjoyed a moment of his company.

It’s Bill who says, “We had to take precautions.” He doesn’t sound at peace with the decision, like he’s trying to convince himself.

Eve sits forward. It hurts, every inch she rises to meet Carolyn’s gaze. “My husband is gone because of you.”

This time her eyes don’t dart away. She doesn’t feel guilty for this. “They would have come after Bespin soon enough.”

“They tend to leave you alone if you don’t pick a side.”

Carolyn cocks her head. “Do they? Did your husband pick a side?”

Eve feels like she’s choking on her anger. It solidifies inside of her, accumulating mass and force and sway in the world as she clenches her fist.

“Carolyn,” Bill chastises.

Carolyn doesn’t apologise but takes the chance to leave.

“Ignore her,” a young man says. His abrupt appearance is enough to interrupt Eve’s spiral of anger. “She doesn’t understand how anyone can live in this galaxy without wanting to fight, why anyone would want to live a life other than hers.”

“She’s a bitch,” Eve summarises.

He doesn’t comment on that but sticks out his hand. “Kenny.”

“Eve.”

To Bill, he says, “I found her a room.”

“You’re a good one, Kenny.” He claps the boy’s shoulder, who beams, then Bill says to Eve, “Thought you might want some privacy. Can you walk?”

It turns out she can but not with conviction. At least, it doesn’t convince Bill and he keeps an arm around her waist. The ship is in a state of disrepair that’s basically an aesthetic of the Rebel Alliance. It’s far from the waxed cream halls and swift hatch doors of Bespin. Here, every door clunks and hisses. Everywhere is narrow, people push past each other to travel through the ship.

The room they drag her to is away from the busy corridors into a quieter, but not by any means quiet, part of the ship.

Inside, Bill thanks Kenny. It sounds like a dismissal. The hatch closes behind him.

Bill opens a cupboard and places unfolded clothes beside Eve, before joining her on the bed.

Eve spreads them out on the covers. The first item is a thick cream turtleneck, with off coloured patches of fabric sown all over it to cover the points of wear and tear. The second is a simplistic pair of navy trousers, covered in pockets. These have gone past second-hand.

Bill notices the blood, rust coloured and crusted into her flesh as she examines the clothes. He excuses himself and returns with a damp cloth and a container of water. Offering them to Eve.

She drags the towel over her skin, grating at the flesh like it is tainted. Bill’s hands stop hers, prying the rag from her hands, taking over the task. The stains yield under his delicate touch.

“I think there is something we need to talk about.” His tone is as gentle as his hands.

Eve doesn’t follow.

Bill sighs. “ _How_ you survived.”

It’s not a question.

Eve looks down at her hands. As he cleans them, her flesh is rediscovered. She doesn’t recognise them, hands that are capable of things she doesn’t completely understand. “All my life, I felt like something was waiting for me. I always chose to turn away from it. I’m not a hero.”

Bill moves on to her other hand as he says, “You can’t make the Force wait forever.”

He finally said it.

_The Force._

You don’t hear that much anymore. Eve knew that’s what had come to her aid on the ship, recognises the phrase. But she had shied away from it and everything it stood for.

“I’ve tried, trust me, you can’t hide from your destiny,” Bill continues.

Eve snorts. She doesn’t have a destiny; she doesn’t want one. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those religious freaks?”

He doesn’t join Eve in her smile.

“You’re a Jedi?”

“Was,” he corrects her.

Eve knew the Jedi weren’t merely myth and legend, though that’s all they’d occupied since the Clone Wars. She was younger than, but she remembered the stories of the Jedi Order. The Jedi Knights sent to fight in the war. But the truth of their legacy, what they stood for is murky now, obscured by the counter-narrative crafted by the Empire. The Republic and Jedi Order had failed, supposedly for good reason. With all that considered Bill did not look anything like the warriors Eve had imagined.

“How are you still alive? Weren’t they all…” Eve runs a cleaned finger along her throat.

“It turns out you aren’t too high on the Empire’s kill list when you’re one: a pretty shit Jedi, and two: technically not a Jedi ‘cause they kicked you out.”

“Why?”

“I had too many _attachments_ outside of the force.” He puts air quotes around the word.

“Was celibacy a problem for you?” Eve can’t help but smirk.

He rolls his eyes. “They don’t _force_ celibacy. They disavow love. You can probably guess how they felt about a bit of polyamory. What can I say? I’m a lover not a fighter. I tried to explain to them that I didn’t necessarily love all of them,” Bill shrugs. “They suggested I exercise some restraint. And I might have called Yoda a dick swab.”

“What’s wrong with love?” Eve thinks of Niko.

“Love is a powerful connection that is outside of the Force. Like all things it can bring good and bad. The Jedi were about restraint, discipline as they struggle to distance themselves from the dark side and the darkness within themselves. Why foster a link that can drive someone out of control? Leave themselves open to jealousy and fear. They thought it would cloud someone’s judgement, draw them to the dark side.”

As he spoke, Eve remembers the way she nearly lost control of herself watching Niko die. She would have done anything to save him, light or dark she would have wielded it. She can see that moment in the corridor spirally the other way, her rage consuming her like that woman’s.

Eve doesn’t want to voice her thoughts and instead asks, “Do you have one of those? Whoosh.” She mimes the motion of the Jedi’s weapon cutting through the air.

Two thick brows rise. “A lightsaber?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course.” He shrugs like it’s nothing. “It’s a relic of its former glory. But from time to time, I let people hold it when they visit my chambers.” He winks at her.

After prying a smile from her and cleaning both her hands, Bill’s job is done.

“I’ll leave you to rest,” he announces.

***

When Villanelle wakes the pain is muted but she can feel the hole in her side, feel the machine that cranes over her, pinching and pulling her skin back together. She is depleted. Even as her eyes open, they’re ready to flutter shut again. She really had gone overboard.

Konstantin sits beside her, his face grave, his beard greying further as he sits in silence. He doesn’t notice she is awake.

They are in her chambers. The hard table she lays on isn’t her bed. It resembles a stretcher, perhaps, a bench more closely. She can see her bed and longs to be in it and it’s mess of cosy blankets. Her style warping the hard lines of the Empire aesthetic. The room is cluttered. Lived in. Clothes cover the floor just shy of being put away. 

The hole in her side is gnarly. She dreads to think how long this will take to fully recover from.

Then she thinks of the woman who gave it to her. The entirely unexpected roadblock in Villanelle’s plan.

“Who was she?” Villanelle breathes, the pain returns a little as she speaks.

Konstantin’s hand drags down his face, disturbing the bristles of his beard. He’s confused. “Who was who?”

A face, a full image of Eve invades Villanelle’s mind but all she offers him is, “The woman.”

He frowns. “Nobody.” Then he leans over and flicks her forehead, his warm breath invades her space as he says, “You were bested by a nobody.”

“Ouch, that hurt.” She makes a show of rubbing her forehead like he can’t currently see her insides.

“Not as much as explaining this to _her_ is going to hurt.”

Villanelle groans, letting her head thump back into the table. “She really wasn’t anybody?”

“None of our scanners recognise her. She was picked up from ruins of your squabble by the Rebels. A Jedi in hiding perhaps. Or so you’d better hope.”

Villanelle doesn’t heed his warning and mutters to the ceiling dreamily, “She has amazing hair.”

Konstantin just sighs. 

The machine stops and they both look down to observe its work, the taut surface of her stomach is interrupted by a slit inky black synthetic flesh that bridges the two sides of the wound. Villanelle touches it, smearing some of the crimson blood pooling at its edges.

“Rest,” Konstantin orders as he stands. “You’ll need your strength.”

“You’re not going to stay?” Blood tipped fingers reach for him.

He steps back. He looks guilty. “I promised Irina I would spend the day with her before you went and nearly got yourself killed. She isn’t happy. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he calls back to her, disappearing through the door, the machine goes with him.

It seems as soon as the door seals after him it whips open again. Nadia waltzes in. Her face is bruised but otherwise unharmed, her cocky grin fixed in place.

She pouts at the sight of Villanelle laid out on the table, in mock sympathy. “Oh, you poor thing. Too bad, I was really looking forward to letting off some steam.”

She walks right up to Villanelle and straddles her. Her palm deliberately bears down on her abdomen, on the newly sealed wound. Villanelle grimaces.

A finger shifts a string of hair from Villanelle’s eyes. “We had to drag your broken body back into the ship. We should have just –.” Nadia is cut off as a hand’s latches around her throat.

Villanelle is tempted to squeeze, to make the action more than a warning. But Nadia’s eyes awaken, fear, arousal, and pain intermingling. Villanelle stops herself as Nadia smiles.

“There she is.” She rocks her hips back, driving their centres together. Her hand lifts from Villanelle’s wound, and re-anchors beside her face.

This is their way; everything is a fight. They never make love. They try to ruin each other.

The veins in Nadia’s neck balloon and her voice is gruff as she asks, “Are you going to let me kiss you or what?”

Villanelle didn’t say anything, just pushes on her neck to shove Nadia not back but down. She gets the picture, unbuckling Villanelle’s pants as she descends her body.

***

Unsurprisingly, Eve can’t sleep. She peels off her uniform, dumping it on the floor and sets the offered clothes aside for tomorrow. In her underwear, she crawls into the small cot like bed.

It doesn’t feel like there will be a tomorrow. It would be easier, simpler, if she didn’t wake up.

In the darkness, she stares at the ceiling.

She waits for the sorrow to hit her again. Though she would prefer the anger. She would rather spend the night stew over her thoughts of revenge, then crying.

But neither come.

Instead, she feels an accumulation of warmth in her stomach. Pleasant warmth. Pleasurable warmth.

Of all the strange reactions one can have to grief and loss, Eve had not expected this one.

Maybe her body is telling her she needs to decompress, let go of some of that grief in a healthy way. It might offer her enough of a distraction to lull her to sleep.

A hand slips into the warmth of her underwear. Immediately, she exhales. Her touch hums through her body. She stifles her moan, not sure how much she trusts the ship's rooms to be soundproof.

She finds a rhythm; her head is rapidly emptying or at least she thinks it is. Until there is a flash of a face, of that woman’s face. The harder Eve tries to wipe it from her imagination the stronger the image becomes. Her hand should stop but it doesn’t.

A moan slips from her lips.

“It’s you,” an accented voice coos.

 _Her_ voice.

That is enough to snaps Eve’s hand from beneath her waistband. She sits up and looks around in the dimness of her small room.

Nothing stares back. Eve’s sure she imagined it.

***

Villanelle keeps a hand wrapped in a fistful of Nadia’s weakly curled hair. She has her eyes closed, willing Nadia’s presence to merge with her imagination.

In her mind, she’s gripping wild curly locks of hair, looking down the length of her wounded body to find that woman. Her wild eyes boring into Villanelle’s the way they had in the corridor. It’s working, Nadia’s touch is amplified, her tongue brazen against Villanelle.

It hurts but Villanelle’s back arches of the metal surface.

As she does, Villanelle hears a choked panting exhale that isn’t her own. Her body reacts to it. Grinding against Nadia’s mouth. The sound surprises her, it doesn’t sound like Nadia, who is painfully quiet in bed. Reluctantly, Villanelle bats her eyes open, ruining her fantasy to observe Nadia still lapping between her legs, her mouth steadily at work.

Then there is another moan. This time Villanelle is sure it didn’t come from Nadia.

She pulls her hips back, scooting back up the table.

“What are you doing?” Nadia demands wiping her face.

Villanelle holds up s hand. She’s listening. Nadia looks at her like she’s crazy and gets up.

“Go,” Villanelle says to Nadia, her voice not leaving room for debate.

Nadia is annoyed but doesn’t seem keen to continue either. She makes a show of leaving. The door seals and locks behind her as Villanelle works to get to her feet, wrangling her pants back up.

It’s like she’s back in that corridor, she can sense that woman as clearly as if she stood before her. That wild power. That shifting aura.

“It’s you,” Villanelle breathes, hoping she hears her.

She can’t help but search the room around her for the woman. She can imagine her so perfectly; she aches to hear her voice.

Villanelle asks, “Where are you?”

***

Eve is laying as stiff as a board in her bed. There it is again, clear as day. So, her last shred of sanity had truly snapped like a twig. What an odd delusion, recalling a voice she’d barely heard on the ship so vividly.

Eve might have been able to dismiss it, add it to the list of crazy things that had happened today, if she couldn’t sense her. It is stronger than on the ship, like she’s standing beside the bonfire of the woman’s aura, warming herself by it.

It’s playful, less blistering, and above all curious as the voice calls out to Eve, invading her mind.

“Where are you?” Villanelle asks again, realising the woman isn’t _here_ physically but understanding that it’s her. That tendrils of the Force were binding them together, perhaps by the woman’s design.

“I’m not telling you that.” The words are clipped and rigid with trepidation, but the voice is smooth and mature.

“So … with the rebels.” Eve’s silence is confirmation enough. “Who are you? How are you in my head?”

“How are you in mine?” There is an edge of fear to Eve’s voice. It makes Villanelle believe her; this isn’t her doing.

“I don’t know,” Villanelle breathes in fascination and earnest confusion. “How many of your kind do you think have fallen by my hand?”

Eve goes quiet, not sure what the woman meant by ‘her kind’. Then slowly, she realises who this woman thinks she is. “I’m not a Jedi. This morning I was just a security guard.”

Eve hears the sigh of disbelief. When Eve doesn’t recount her words, the woman finally spoke again. “Sorry about that, I wanted what you were guarding. You got some pretty nice powers out of it though.”

“And I was a wife,” Eve adds.

The voice’s answer is simple. “Then you are free.”

“I’m alone.”

“Isn’t everyone?”

“I wasn’t.” Her voice is thick. Eve hopes the woman can’t hear it.

“What do I call you, voice in my head, woman with great hair?” Her voice is light, airy, full of wonder.

“Eve.” The venom in her voice twists her name. There is a beat and Eve decides not to leave out the name she shared with Niko. “Eve Polastri.”

“Eve Polastri,” Villanelle echoes, marvelling at how it sounds.

The venom persists, her words bite. “What do I call you, yellow-eyed woman who helped kill my husband?”

There is a chuckle. “Villanelle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning I'm super inconsistent with updates but I don't plan on abandoning this, it's just too much fun.  
> I put a poll up on my twitter to determine Eve's lightsaber colour if you want to have a say 
> 
> twitter: [ we_r_colleagues ](https://twitter.com/we_r_colleagues)  
> tumblr: [ we-are-colleagues ](https://we-are-colleagues.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Villanelle debriefs with her master while Carolyn has a proposition for Eve.

When they reach the Rebel base, Eve and the rest of the survivors are greeted by a welcoming party. Eve can’t see a cause for celebration, the cheer of strangers only serves to sour her mood.

Her sleep was patchy at best, last night. She had lay awake much of the night fearing that Villanelle’s voice would invade her mind again. The night prior feels absurd now, a nightmare trying to claw its way into her reality.

Eve never thought something like that was possible. Then again, her knowledge of the force came from myths where it is impossible to unpick the truth. She can recall whispers of mind reading and mind control but, not the bridging of two minds regardless of distance. It feels stupid to say, but Eve sensed Villanelle’s genuine shock along with her curiosity.

Eve can only assume this goes both ways, that for every glimpse she gets into Villanelle’s mind, she is offered a peek into Eve’s. As Eve wanders the Rebel base, Villanelle’s line of questioning last night unsettles her: _“Where are you?”_

The Rebels are being discrete. Eve couldn’t tell you the name of the planet they are on, let alone their coordinates. They’d landed and ushered them all inside before she’d even got to glance at the sky or gained any of her bearings. A fact she is thankful for. She doesn’t trust her mind to keep that information safe.

Villanelle could be watching Eve right now for all she knows.

She should really tell someone. Bill is the logical candidate. He understands the Force and he is the only Rebel Eve is close to trusting.

Before she can set about trying to find him, Kenny, bright faced and smiling informs her that Carolyn wants to speak with her. As Kenny leads her through the base, Eve realises it is the same shape as their ship. Beat down. Dusty. Rusted. You’d be hard pressed to find anything new. They really are launching their rebellion with scrap metal and second-hand gear. At least the base is roomier than the ship.

Carolyn and Bill wait for her in an empty command room, screens buzz with information behind them. A forest landscape is mapped out on the holotable they stand around.

A shaky sleep and a long journey have done little to dial down the tension between Eve and Carolyn.

But Carolyn, clearly, uncomfortable with the pleasantries offers, “Settling in?”

Reluctant to participate and eager to get to the point, Eve gives a stiff nod. Kenny slips out while he has the chance.

Carolyn sighs, leaning against the holotable. “I know you don’t want to be here. And we clearly have our differing opinions, but you _are_ here so I’m going to ask something of you.”

Eve crosses her arms, hugging herself as Carolyn pulls out a lightsaber. The metal of the hilt is clouded, scored with micro abrasions that ruin its reflective qualities. Black leathers strips wind around the handgrip, stopping beneath the switch that extends its red blade.

Carolyn doesn’t miss the recognition in Eve’s eyes, holding the weapon out for her to take. “We found it when we rescued you.”

Eve unfolds her arms to reach for the lightsaber, as her fingers touch its metal, a scene invades her mind. She sees this very lightsaber, tumbling from metal taloned fingers to skid across black glossy floors. The weapon spins and slows, promising to stop when the vision ends abruptly.

A feeling lingers. An anguish that rattles Eve like a scream through shards of glass.

A voice enters her mind, slipping through the cracks in her focus.

_So, you do have it. I should have known._

Eve manages to seal herself off again. Carolyn and Bill share a silent look. The lightsaber is on the floor at her feet, though Eve can’t remember dropping it.

“Sorry,” Eve blurts out, clambering to pick it up and thrusting it at Carolyn.

She doesn’t take it from Eve, instead she watches her with a knowing expression. “What is her name?”

Eve swallows hard. Then the words tumble out. “Villanelle. That’s all I know.”

Carolyn purses her lips, nods. “I won’t pretend to understand the intricacies of the Force, I’ll leave that to Bill, but I am not a fool. Somehow, you two are connected.”

“I don’t understand it. I – I can’t control it,” Eve admits.

With Eve’s confusion and vulnerability out in the open, Carolyn takes a step towards her, making her words the firm reassurance Eve needs. “I don’t need you to. I need you to find her. I want to know what her role is, who she answers to. She could lead us to something much larger.”

“I can’t.” Eve offers Carolyn the lightsaber, again she ignores it taking another step closer.

Carolyn’s eyes are insistent. “She’ll be back. She’ll come back for this,” she points at the lightsaber then continues, “And for you. You can either wait or you can fight.”

Eve is the one to take a step back. She needs a moment, a second to think.

Carolyn doesn’t let her have it and demands, “Don’t you want to know what they want? Why they killed your husband? Don’t you want to stop them?”

Eve can hear the undercurrent of Carolyn’s questions and her anger is two-fold. She knows that Carolyn is trying to manipulate her, to line Eve’s emotions and motivations up with her own and because she’s also right.

Eve can see the imperial soldiers rounding the corner, see the brunette woman raising her blaster and see Niko falling. She wants to avenge him.

Eve feels volatile with Villanelle’s weapon in her grasp. Her finger flexed over the button. She can feel the objects power, pulsing with the lives it had taken and its endless want for more.

“Are you asking me if I want revenge?” Eve prompts through gritted teeth, looking at the lightsaber’s black hilt and imagining driving it through that imperial officer’s heart.

“You can have a team and one of my best pilots,” Carolyn decides.

***

Eve doesn’t feel any closer to Carolyn after their agreement. They still don’t see eye to eye but a mutual goal just might be enough.

Bill is glued to Eve’s side when she leaves the command room. He leads her down a thousand more tunnels to a makeshift gym. Eve knows what is happening as he sits down in the open floor space, a calm expression on his face. He’s constructing a safe space for the hard talk he wants to have with her.

With a sigh, Eve sits across from him. His methods and his nature are certainly more inviting than Carolyn’s.

There is a beat of silence and into it Eve throws a question. “How long have you known Carolyn?”

He blows out a breath and thinks. “A long time. We knew each other before the Republic fell. She called on my help a few years ago, when I was enjoying a pretty sweet retirement, but she has a way of rallying people to her cause.”

“I noticed.”

“She’s not gentle, but she’s one of the good guys.”

Eve chews the inside of her cheek, averts her eyes and finally asks the question that’s been eating her. “Why can I hear her?”

He frowns. A comforting sign. “Short answer. I don’t know for sure. This isn’t common or ideal.”

“Do you have a long answer?” Eve begs.

“Force connections are rare, the ones I’ve studied were difficult to manifest and were often used by powerful Sith to sway or corrupt a weaker Jedi.”

Eve fiddles with her fingers and shakes her head. “I don’t think this was her doing. Not intentionally. She seemed just as confused.”

Bill nods. “I doubt she is powerful enough to force this connection herself. And no offense, but I can’t see the motivation. It seems like the force has decided to connect you two. Sadly, I can’t tell you why but, I can help you manage it.”

Bill’s intentions were good, but Eve feels worse about all of this after his attempt to reassure her. Yeah, sure, she’ll just learn to lock Villanelle out of her mind. She’d been hoping for something more concrete, do A and B to make it stop. Not a shrug and coping strategies.

A hand touches her knee. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions about all of this. So, go ahead. Shoot.”

“I don’t even know what to ask. I’m – I’m just terrified.”

“That’s okay. It’s what you do with your fear that matters.”

He pats her leg again and the little thread that has slowly been coiling inside of Eve snaps. “You don’t get it! I’m not all light. I never had been. The Force or whatever it is always felt closet to me when I was angry, afraid. That’s why I’ve run from it. I was worried the power waiting for me was darkness. That it would swallow me whole.”

He gives her a weak smile. “Don’t be afraid of it. The Force has no sides. We are the ones who divide it into light and dark.”

Eve knows he’s trying to be reassuring, but his answer gives her plenty of reason to fear herself. “On Bespin, it didn’t feel like I was in control. It was like the force was using me, protecting me, maybe.”

“Control can be taught,” Bill says simply, his tone reassuring.

Eve cocks a brow. “By you?”

He cracks a smile and looks behind him, then around the empty room. “You know any other available ex-Jedi?”

Eve attempts a limp joke. “Does that mean I have to call you, Master Pargrave?”

“Please, just call me, Bill. I’m not a serious man.”

***

Villanelle kneels before a hologram. Blue lines depict a form cloaked in black. The image pitches and shimmers. The form hides her face from Villanelle, but her disapproval and anger pour through her voice.

“You’ve failed me.”

“The General wasn’t there; your informant was wrong.” Villanelle says, straightening up to hide the strain her injury places on her posture.

Her master sees right through it. “You were weak.”

Villanelle’s jaw knots, locking a retort behind her teeth. She’s aware it is better to wait for her master to voice her punishment without infuriating her further. You don’t get bonus points for your debate skills. It is a simple binary of pass or fail. The General evading them is one thing, something forgivable. Being nearly fatally wounded, stopped by a mysterious woman is not.

“Where is your lightsaber?” Her master prompted.

Instinctively, Villanelle touches her belt – she knows it is empty. “I’ll get it back.”

“You will need it.” Her Master’s words are short, clipped and loaded with distain. “Go to Tatooine. There, you will find a Jedi. Dispose of him. Prove to me that you are still worthy of being my apprentice.”

“I will, Master.”

The transmission ends and Villanelle grunts getting to her feet. Konstantin is waiting for her when she exits the room.

“What did she say?” He demands, doing a terrible job of hiding his stress.

Villanelle sounds nonchalant, almost bored in her response. “Go to Tatooine. Kill the Jedi I find there.”

Konstantin tries to catch her eye. “Did you tell her you need time to heal?”

“I don’t need time to heal.”

He grabs her arm and actually shakes her. “Think about this, Villanelle. Jedi are not to be messed with, especially ones that has lasted this long.”

“I’m not afraid to face him.” She remains resolute and unfazed.

“I know you want to prove yourself, but you will prove nothing if you die fighting him.”

“I won’t,” Villanelle insists, annoyance creeping into her voice.

Konstantin’s face is grave, but he lets go of her arm, before saying, “That is not in your hands.”

***

“Keep your eyes closed,” Bill chastises her.

Eve isn’t sure how long she’s been sitting here. It feels like for hours now Bill has been trying to teach her to meditate and feel the Force. She should have known when he said he could teach her control, he meant glorified breathing techniques.

All she can see are the shadowy red interior of her eyelids and Bill’s silhouette as he paces.

“How long do I have to do this?” She asks.

“Until you can clear your mind and be one with the Force. Until all you experience is it flowing through and around you. This is basic stuff, Eve. And if you can get this down you could prevent Villanelle from popping into your mind whenever she feels like it.” He completes his circle around Eve and finds her brown eyes are open again. “What did I say about closing your eyes?”

“Happy,” Eve says squishing them shut.

With a sigh, Bill settles on the floor in front of her. “This is simple, Eve. You just need to let go.”

Eve lets out a harsh laugh. That has never been a strength of hers, turning off, tuning out. She is always on, chewing on some idea.

“Okay, trust me. I’m going to try something. Imagine you’re sinking to the bottom of the ocean.” Bill’s hands take hers and despite her scepticism she relaxes her shoulders and focuses on his voice. “The world is slowly getting quieter. You can see your thoughts zipping by, racing, but you don’t reach out, you keep sinking until you hit the bottom and can see all of it. The absurdity and the distraction of your thoughts and you let it pass over you.”

Then Eve feels it. She actually sinks, even with Bill’s hands in hers, she can feel the Force flowing through them both and pulling Eve down. It’s quiet in comparison to the chaos of their first meeting. Its calming nature shifts through her and she feels herself doing as Bill described, letting idle thoughts pass her by, until all her worries are out of reach, stranded on the surface. She sinks deeper still. Bill’s hands aren’t in hers anymore. Even his presence doesn’t reach her.

She’s so far away, in fact, Eve’s sure even Villanelle can’t reach her here.

She hits the bottom. And it’s there, she senses an irregularity in the great tidal wave of the Force swirling around her. A point where the Force is gathering, a whirlpool. She gravitates towards it, curious but cautious. But that’s all it takes for her to be sucked into its vacuum.

Eve falls through something intangible than she _knows_ , without proof and guided only by her feelings, she is in Villanelle’s thoughts.

There is a frustration that makes Villanelle’s skin itch, her feet wander. But where is she going?

Eve sees a planet. Sand covered and pock marked with craters and canyons.

Eve dares to ask its name. Villanelle knows it and then so does Eve.

Tatooine.

Eve is pushed out of Villanelle’s mind. Rapidly she resurfaces, Bill’s voice is blaring in her ear. Her hands are out in front of her, palms flat on the earth ground herself. She calms her breathing with the method she’d mocked earlier.

When she can speak, she looks at Bill and says, “I know where she’s going.”

***

Bill is cautious, to say the least. The aim of their session had been to teach Eve how to protect herself from Villanelle’s influence and instead Eve had managed to fall into her mind.

Carolyn didn’t entertain his concerns. She offered Eve a pilot. Tatooine is relatively close, they stood a good chance of catching up with her, maybe even beating her there.

They find their pilot working beneath what Eve can only presume is their ship. It is larger than the starfighters stored along with it in the hanger, Eve has to crane her neck to spot the worn-down yellow paint striping across the roof as they approach.

A female pilot stands in the ships diamond shadow, working on a piston in the ship’s ramp. When she spots Bill, she waves them over. She is wearing a creaming jumpsuit, marred with grease.

As soon as they are close, she beams. “You have no idea how badly I want to get out of this place and get into some trouble.”

“Eve, this is Elena. One of our best pilots.”

“Their best,” She corrects him.

They shake hands and Elena catches the worried look Eve shoots the outdated ship.

“She’s a little old school but she’s reliable,” Elena reassures Eve, placing a hand on the underside of the hull.

“Heading off already?”

They turn to see Kenny standing sheepishly with a silver protocol droid in-toe.

“We won’t be long,” Bill assures him.

Kenny shakes his head, then scratches his neck. “I didn’t come to see you off, I came to offer my help.”

Bill’s brows shot up. “What does Carolyn think about that?”

“That it’s none of her business,” Kenny insists in an odd display of defiance.

Bill is about to shut him down when Elena speaks up, “Oh come on, a little adventure can’t hurt anyone.” Then she looks pointedly at Kenny, “As long as you think you can handle it.”

Kenny lights up and his cheeks flush pink. He gathers himself and motions to the droid behind him, “Eve, this is H.U.G – 0. But we just call him, Hugo, get it? Hug- _o_.”

“Oh no. That droid is not coming,” Bill remarks.

“He’ll be useful, I swear,” Kenny begs.

The droids mouth lights up as it says, “How many languages do you know then, old man?”

Bill frowns.

“Okay, I’m still working out some of the kinks but,” Kenny turns a notch on Hugo’s neck then continues, “I added a mute button.”

This seems to win Bill over as he watches the droids mouth flashing fruitlessly. Hugo's one orange arm hinges in frustration.

“Do we have a destination more precise than Tatooine?” Elena asks, walking up the ramp into the ship.

“No. But I know a place. The people there will know if any Imperial ships have landed nearby and they can offer us shelter,” Bill explains as they file onto the ship.

Bill feeds Elena the coordinates for their trip and Eve can sense something is off. His unease is growing.

“You look worried,” Eve says her tone a little accusatory.

He pauses for so long she thinks he might not answer her, when he does each word is measured. “Troubled. Tatooine is where I spent my retirement. I’m worried about what might be drawing her there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of struggled to write this one, set up is never as fun as the conflicts. I've been trying to write ahead so the next chapter shouldn't be too far away  
> As always let me know what you think and thanks for reading xx
> 
> twitter: [ we_r_colleagues ](https://twitter.com/we_r_colleagues)  
> tumblr: [ we-are-colleagues ](https://we-are-colleagues.tumblr.com/)


	5. Collision of Red and Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill introduces Eve to his "contacts" on Tatooine. Eve finds out more about the lightsaber in her possession, and Villanelle arrives on Tatooine.

As they draw nearer to Tatooine’s surface they can see the one note sandy desert terrain of the planet. Its horizon is a brushstroke loaded with one colour, rising, and falling to create the dunes and plains of the planet. There are no people. No animals. Just a single hut disturbs the emptiness, giving the desert a centre, and them, a destination. The desolates planet’s sky is more populated than its surface, three moons and two suns cross it each day.

“Is this it?” Elena asks, double checking the coordinates before decelerating and dropping the landing gear.

“This is it,” Bill assures her, unbuckling. He doesn’t wait for Elena to land before lowering the boarding ramp.

With Bill out of earshot, Elena scans the radar and frowns. “It doesn’t have a satellite dish – or anything. These people couldn’t even tell us the weather.”

Eve peers out of the cockpit, the door to the hut has creaked open. Cautious eyes watch them landing, squint into the sand the engines stir up. The engines die and Bill emerges from beneath the cockpit. The hut’s door flings open. Two children, plainly dressed, sprint across the sand as Bill trudges through the shifting surface to meet them halfway and catch them in his embrace.

A man and a woman emerge after them. The sleeping bundle in the woman’s arms forces her to lag behind. When the man reaches Bill, he kisses him. Long and tender. Only the woman’s arrival seems to pry them apart. They make room for her as the children weave between their legs, trying to steal Bill’s attention as he’s reaches for the baby in her arms, taking in eyes that are more alert than he remembers and rosy teething cheeks. He touches the baby’s dimpled chin before leaning in to kiss the woman, matching the tenderness and the longing intimacy of the one he shared with the man.

“Some retirement,” Hugo comments from behind Eve.

***

Their hut is just as small on the inside as Eve imagined. Elena and Kenny opt to stay on the ship – Hugo isn’t get a choice – while Eve shuffles inside with Bill and his family.

Bill is preoccupied with the children vying for his attention, but still manages to introduce Eve to everyone. The two younglings are twins, brother and sister, Finlan and Norell. The man’s name is Weber and the woman’s Keiko. The bundle in Bill’s arms is introduced only as ‘baby Akira’.

The kids chase each other under rickety furniture. It’s dark and cool inside. Without asking, Keiko hands Eve and Bill a drink, it looks like a tea. Eve takes a cautious polite sip.

They are all smiles. But Keiko and Weber’s smiles are translucent, aware something is up. Norell manages to talk Bill into letting her up on his knee. It’s a balancing act, trying to stop Norell from waking Akira and keeping her from falling off his knee. Eve doesn’t miss them calling him “Papa”.

“What a surprise, what a happy surprise,” Keiko muses.

Bill’s returning smile is sombre. “This isn’t one of my usual trips home. Something else has brought me here.”

Their smiles drop quickly, they expected as much. Keiko doesn’t hesitate to say, “How can we help?”

Eve takes this as her cue, Villanelle’s lightsaber falls from her lap, pulling on its clip as she leans in. “We’re trying to locate an assassin. A Sith assassin. We believe she planned to head here, to Tatooine. Have you noticed any Imperial ships or strange activity?”

“Where did you get that?” Weber asks, his eyes on the lightsaber, clattering against the chair leg.

“From the assassin,” Eve answers, unclipping the saber and handing it to him.

Before he’s even had a close look at it, he says, “I recognise it. It belonged to my master.”

Bill tenses beside Eve. His fear is confirmed.

“You trained under a Sith?” Eve fails to keep the shock from her voice.

“Dasha was a Jedi when she trained me. Though that’s not to say she ever played by their rules. And she taught her students the same. After me, she took another pupil. A promising yet, troubled child, who flirted with the dark side. Dasha saw something of herself in the girl. She thought she could teach her balance, so she convinced the Council to let her train the girl. They fell to the dark side together, as master and apprentice.”

The anticipation wears on Eve. She tilts even further forward in her chair and can’t help but prompt him, “Who was her apprentice?”

She can feel it in the air. She needs to hear him say her name.

He answers. “Hélène.”

“Hélène?” Eve challenges, her words jumping at him.

Weber frowns at her. Eve takes a moment to right herself and lets him continue. “I’ve seen her once since then. Before the Jedi Purge, Dasha sent Hélène to me with an ultimatum, join them or be eliminated along with the rest of the Jedi. Hélène failed to defeat me. Obviously. And I went into hiding here on Tatooine, we’ve known peace ever since.”

Weber’s face is oddly calm as he turns the lightsaber on. The red light dominates the small space.

“It used to be blue,” he muses, more to himself than Eve. “This crystal was made to bleed by Dasha’s will, but it answers to another now. My old master is long dead. I suspect Hélène, in the way of the Sith, has taken her master’s place and taken her own apprentice. I always knew she would be back to finish what she started. It seems she’s sending her apprentice to do what she couldn’t.”

***

After the avalanche of new information, Eve and Bill break free of the hut to debrief. They sit on a pile of scrap out front of the hut.

There is an absent smile on Bill’s face as he looks down at the still sleeping baby in his arms. He hadn’t been able to hand her back just yet.

“Retirement, huh?” Eve bumps his shoulder lightly. “Are they yours?”

“Of course, they’re all of ours.” He scoffs at her then his eyes go soft. “I never thought I’d have a family. It’s quite nice.”

“It must be tough for them, having a dad out saving the galaxy.” Her words come out harsher than intended.

For a second he looks guilty, then he meets her eyes and says, “It’s tough for the dad too.”

He forces her to look at the spark of emotion that caused her to say that. She sees years of watching an empty sky, waiting for her parents and to have them never find their way back to her. “Sorry. I just know what it is like to be the one who had to wait.”

He bumps her shoulder, mirroring her gesture to lighten the mood. “I don’t think I would have ever seen a reason to join the Rebellion if I didn’t have a family. I wouldn’t have had something to fight for.”

Eve squints at the horizon. “And we bought that fight to your home.”

“Weber and Keiko are far better Jedi than you or I. Weber, especially, he has talents that set him apart. There is a reason Hélène didn’t succeed,” he assures her.

And he seems confident. Eve isn’t so sure, if Villanelle is really coming for Weber, she can’t see how he could stand a chance. He is probably twenty years older than her. Slow and calm. But Villanelle is young and violent. Unpredictable.

Both their heads snap to the ship as Elena comes running down the ramp, arms waving over her head, Hugo, and Kenny hobbling behind her.

“The radar picked up a ship entering the atmosphere!” Elena shouts. “It’s her. She’s headed right for us.”

Eve shoots to her feet and into action. “We have to get everyone out of here.”

Elena reaches them before the others, out of breath, catching herself on her knees. She still manages to shake her head. “There is no time. If we leave, she’ll simply follow us. Probably shoot us down in the process.”

“She’s coming for me,” Weber says. He’s standing behind them, forcing himself to stand a little taller. A silver lightsaber with gold detailing is now strapped to his waist, catching the sunlight. “I’ll face her alone. Just get the kids on the ship.” The last part is less brave, a plea.

“No-” Bill starts.

“It’s alright,” Weber cuts him off, taking his hand. “I’ve still got some fight left in me.”

“Babysitting isn’t in my programming,” Hugo says ruining their moment.

Kenny is lightning quick, muting Hugo and assuring Weber, “They’ll be safe with us.”

***

Villanelle takes her time like she’s indulging in a fashion show, modelling her beige ensemble for the small group awaiting her arrival. There is something regal about her. A desert princess, not the all-black harbinger of death Eve met on Bespin.

She plants her feet just short of them and smirks. “This is quite the welcoming party.” Her eyes settle on Eve before passing over her to take in the new faces. “Which one of you is Weber?”

Weber, who is already standing as the head of their little group, steps forward letting go of both Bill and Keiko’s hands. “I am.”

Villanelle raises an eyebrow; her smirk grows as she looks the older man up and down.

Weber lifts his hand. “I’ll fight you alone, on the condition that you leave the others out of this.”

“I came for you,” Villanelle answers, readying her stance.

Eve’s jacket flutters. She looks down in time to watch the lightsaber unclip from her belt and fly into Villanelle’s waiting hand.

“Thank you, Eve.” Villanelle doesn’t glance in Eve’s direction; her eyes are firmly on her target; her lightsaber comes to life.

Villanelle’s words gut Eve. Strips her of her ego and any delusion of having earned the upper hand. It all makes sense. Eve hadn’t outsmarted Villanelle, hadn’t snuck into her mind. She’d been invited to Tatooine. A glorified intergalactic courier.

Weber walks to oppose her. Widening the gap between the onlookers and himself. Reluctantly, he retrieves his own lightsaber. It comes to life in a shock of purple light.

Eve’s stunned at the sight of it. The colour is more alluring than the harsh red of Villanelle’s lightsaber. The blade itself seems stable, balanced.

Weber holds it at his side and says, “Tell me your name.” His tone is friendly like they aren’t wielding their weapons.

Villanelle’s eyes narrow. Her answer is impatient. “Villanelle.”

He shakes his head, swinging the blade beside him to scorch the sand. “Your real name.”

Villanelle’s response is to strike. He parries the blow as if he predicted it. Eve sees Keiko and Bill jump in her periphery and lean into each other a little more.

Villanelle doesn’t let up. They both move fast, no action is half-hearted, each motion is meant to kill or defend their own life.

Eve’s eyes strain flitting across the action. And still, she is sure she’s missing whole moments of the fight. Their dance makes little sense to her. The intricacies of it are lost without the evidence of some clear upper hand, a drop of blood, a gasp of pain. Eventually, they come apart and begin circling one another, assessing each other anew after their first foray.

Villanelle’s lightsaber hangs at her side, stirring the sand. She looks laboured, her stance is twisted and uneasy.

Eve wouldn’t have missed something as definitive as a wounding blow. It dawns on her as she spots Villanelle’s free hand clamping her side, in the same place Eve had aimed the rebar that concluded their first meeting. Blood seeps through Villanelle’s fingers, spreading through the light fabric as her eyes find Eve’s. The acknowledgement is brief, then Villanelle frowns at her bloodied hand, wiping it clean on her pants and re-gripping the lightsaber with both hands.

Weber and Villanelle’s pacing footsteps connect to form a circle in the sand, marking out the battlefield. They rush in to meet at its centre.

As they fight, dodge, swipe and parry, Villanelle can feel Weber pressing into her mind, fumbling to find a way in. A risky strategy, that splits his focus between the weapon in his hand and his hold on the Force. She fends off his feeble attempts to enter her mind and sees her chance, rushing him with a wild strike.

He leaps back, out of range. Then thrusts his hand forward. Villanelle steels herself, but all the Force summoned does is blow sand in her face. It’s unexpected, a juvenile tactic. The sand particles scatter, getting into her eyes and mouth. She clenches her jaw and granules grind between her teeth. She’s forced to back up to clear her vision.

With Villanelle off guard, Weber pushes at her mind again, and enters the memory flitting through her thoughts. Eve is drawn in as well, falling through the bond into Villanelle’s mind.

_The memory isn’t crisp. But Eve sees Villanelle, fourteen or so, shackled and sitting in the back of an Imperial shuttle. The face of the child beside her is blurred but his whimpering bleeds through the haze. He gets louder when the Stormtrooper’s pacing brings him closer to them._

_Villanelle’s mouth is dry and sand grits between her teeth, but she manages to draw together enough grainy saliva to spit at the Stormtrooper guarding them. It’s a perfect shot that splatters across his visor._

_It’s the same one Stormtrooper that shoved her into the sand and shackled her. She can’t do anything as he hits the grin from her face with the butt of his weapon. Blood floods her mouth, coats her teeth and suspends the remaining grains of sand. She spits at him again. It’s viscous this time, the blood speckles his white armour._

_“You little shit –” He raises the gun again._

_“Enough,” A woman commands._

_With a grunt he backs up, wiping at his visor._

_The woman’s body is shielded by a black cloak, but the hood is tipped back, revealing her face. Her features are distinct and beautiful, sharp cheekbones and a prominent nose. Her eyes are small and still, betraying nothing as she approaches Villanelle. Something sharp glints at the lip of her sleeve as she walks._

_The boy beside Villanelle recoils. She shifts forward, letting her form stick out in front of his._

_At first, the woman doesn’t say anything. Villanelle considers spitting on her too. The longer she waits, the longer the woman stares and the more violent her thoughts become._

_“You’re thinking about ways to kill me.” The woman sounds amused. She crouches and their eyes are level when she continues, “Let me save you the trouble. Spoil the ending. You can’t.”_

_Villanelle’s fists clench in the restrains. If her hands were free, she’d destroy her._

_The woman looks down at the shackles, observes the slightest give in the restraints before Villanelle’s hands are pulled back together again. She smirks. “All that fire, all that anger and you don’t know how to use it. One day, if you listen to me, if you are powerful enough, you might just be able to kill me.”_

_Her response catches Villanelle off guard. Had she just promised to teach Villanelle how to kill her? With her scowl firmly in place, Villanelle settles back. The cuffs slacken. The promise of power sedates her._

_Hélène measures Villanelle’s eyes once more. In her periphery, Villanelle sees metal taloned fingers wave through the air and the shackles drop to the floor._

_As she wrings the skin of her wrists, Hélène stands and walks to a small window at the back of the ship. “You should take one last look. You may never see Jakku again.”_

_Hesitantly, Villanelle approaches to share the view. The planet fits in the window and is shrinking fast. Her home, her village are already out of sight._

_“It’s so small,” Villanelle blurts out._

_She can feel Hélène behind her. A hand rests on her shoulder, its talons clip through her clothing to bite into her flesh._

Eve and Villanelle both come back to Weber’s voice loud and mocking saying, “Is that where you are from?”

“Get out of my head!” Villanelle shouts back, closing the distance to lunge at him.

He steps out of the way. He’s almost calm as her wild strikes barely miss him. He’s confident he has gotten into Villanelle’s head now; Eve realises this is the kind of talent Bill was referring to.

Villanelle is non-sensical, curses are thrown in with her grunts and strikes. Her thoughts bleed into her emotions and Eve can feel her blinding, obstructive fury.

He slips her jab and with her over extended, defenceless, he lands his own blow, a swipe up the inside of her arm with the very tip of his lightsaber. It burns through her clothes and the flesh underneath. The wound, the smell of singed flesh, the trickling of pain through their bond drags Eve back to the corridor, back to Niko’s last breath.

“There is more than this. More than the dark side. You could be more. I can see it.” His tone carries the warning that this is the last glancing blow he plans to land.

“You’re going to die!” Villanelle roars, not taking the chance to survey the damage to her arm.

He straightens up, forces another breath in the action. His calm mask breaks in disappointment. “If you beat me, I die a free man. If I beat you, you die for them, for her, without a name.”

Villanelle can feel him pry at her mind again, trying to predict her next move, trying to blow her wide open. And she let’s go, he falls into her mind, down and down the rabbit hole. Eve follows, unwillingly.

They don’t hit the bottom. There is no bottom, instead, they are engulfed in an agonising nothingness that stretches on forever, leeching the light and the feelings they bought with them from their minds. Making room for the nothingness to seep inside of them, thick and drowning. Eve loses track of time in it, loses track of herself.

In a move that is starting to become familiar to Eve, Villanelle’s walls shoot back up and they’re kicked out. Eve is welcomed back to the sandy plain by a scream.

The cry of pain is short, one of alarm as Weber’s arm hits the floor. He falls to his knees staring at the limb in the sand, his lightsaber suspended in its grasp. His mind struggles to comprehend what happened, he didn’t see the motion, the movement, even the option to strike materialise in her mind, he was too lost in the void inside of her.

Villanelle takes a step closer, bringing the tip of her lightsaber to hover beneath his chin, forcing him to lock eyes with her. For the first time since their meeting, his are alight with fear.

“You’ve won,” He concedes, his Adams apple bobs dangerously close to the blistering red light. The palm of his remaining hand rises in surrender as he pleads, “Let me go.”

Villanelle is still bristling with anger. Her thoughts are scrambled, repetitive. How dare he reach into her mind and think he can play with her thoughts, think that he knows her. The memories Weber disturbed scream for her to look at them, to fall into their depths. He has opened the void and complete apathy threatens to take hold. She clings to her rage, her hatred, the pain in her side, so she can feel alive.

Finally, she shakes her head. Hélène wants him dead, but it went beyond that Villanelle isn’t satisfied with defeating him, she needs to ruin him, to see the light drain from his eyes.

Recognising these are his last moments, Weber swallows hard. He’s tempted to look at his family, to Bill and Keiko, to assure them it’s alright. But he keeps his eyes on Villanelle as she readies herself to drink in his last moment. He gives up his last look to flex the fingers of his remaining hand and summon the Force.

His lightsaber wrenches from the grip of his detached limb, charting a course to his non-dominant hand.

As soon as Villanelle sees his fingers move, she thrusts her lightsaber forward. It bursts through the back of his neck before the summoned lightsaber can reach his hand. It shoots past him with its remaining momentum, skewering itself in the sand.

The glow of the lightsaber fills the cavities of his skull, tinging his eyes and emanating from his mouth as his jaw slackens. He is there for a moment, in those reddened eyes, hanging on, glaring back at her, before they roll to the veiny whites of his eyes.

Villanelle plants a boot against his chest and shoves him off the end of her lightsaber. Then she turns to face their audience, ready for retaliation.

She faces a broken family. Bill is holding Keiko close and in place, afraid of what she might do if he lets go. Eve’s eyes fall on Bill. His hands are in fists, tears overflow from his eyes, but his feet remain planted, he nods for Villanelle to leave.

Eve watches in disbelief. He’s just going to let her get away with this? Eve remembers how hard she fought after Niko was taken from her, she fought like it might bring him back. Honour be damned. Villanelle slaughtered the man he loved just to please her master. Was this the same kind of vapid act of destruction that took Niko from her?

Realising that no one plans to challenge her, Villanelle extinguishes her lightsaber. With it, her façade falls. Her posture collapses, she regrips her side and retreats to her ship.

Eve glares after Villanelle, watching her form shrink.

 _This is bullshit,_ Eve thinks.

Bill catches hold of Eve’s sleeve, cautioning her, “Don’t.”

He’s trying to guide her with them over to Weber’s body. Eve doesn’t budge. The heat of the desert makes Villanelle look like a mirage, disappearing before her eyes. Eve can’t let her get away.

Ripping her sleeve free, Eve takes of running. Bill calls after her but the sound is lost to the wind whipping past her as she summons Weber’s lightsaber. The metal grip is still warm from the heat of his hand.

Her loud footfalls betray her approach and Villanelle turns on her, prepared, lightsaber ablaze. Eve skids to a halt just as Villanelle extends her arm, keeping her at the end of the blade. Eve looks down, fumbles with Weber’s lightsaber then, blade extended she holds her arm out too, mirroring Villanelle’s stance and pretending the weapon in her hand doesn’t terrify her.

Breathless, Villanelle still manages to smirk as she admires the purple lightsaber, the collision of blue and red light, Eve prods in her face. “Suits you,” she comments.

Eve’s body language says she is ready for a fight but her words say something else, “Why are you doing this? Why did he have to die?”

Villanelle’s brows pull together. She knows she doesn’t have the strength for another fight. And she doesn’t know the limits of Eve’s abilities, despite how precarious her hold on that lightsaber is, Villanelle can’t risk it.

Villanelle takes a back step as Eve says, “Come with me. We can talk, just you and me.”

This makes Villanelle smile; hearing Eve offer her a ceasefire while Villanelle’s free hand stems the bleeding from a wound Eve gave her.

A flash of light and electricity crackles through the air and Eve drops to the floor. She loses control of her body, every nerve tingles as she flounders trying to get to her feet. Her legs are jelly. She expects to see Villanelle standing over her, ready to finish her, but she’s gone.

On her back, waiting for her faculties to return to her, Eve sees Villanelle’s ship streaking across the sky and out of the atmosphere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My fixation with this AU might be getting out of hand. I've been sketching character concepts and outfits about as frequently as I have been writing. I might clean some of them up and post them on twitter if you guys want to see them.
> 
> My ke socials (if you want to keep in loop about new chapters or just hear my thoughts on ke :D)  
> twitter: [ we_r_colleagues ](https://twitter.com/we_r_colleagues)  
> tumblr: [ we-are-colleagues ](https://we-are-colleagues.tumblr.com/)


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